


Just A Taste

by thewaythatwerust



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Exhibitionism (kinda), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beefy Bucky Barnes, Bottom Bucky Barnes, But Steve gets Rimmed so it's a bit switchy?, Dirty Talk, Dirty Talking Bucky Barnes, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mentions of Stuckony, No Lube, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, The Stealth Suit does things to Cap's ass that does things to Bucky's cock, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24781663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaythatwerust/pseuds/thewaythatwerust
Summary: “Please, Stevie?” Bucky wheedles. “Just a taste?” He presses a wet, open-mouth kiss to the back of Steve’s neck, taking his time dragging his tongue over the warm, salty skin.“Buck,” Steve hisses. “We’re in the middle of a mission.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 24
Kudos: 322
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Hell Yeah Bottom Bucky, Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	Just A Taste

**Author's Note:**

> i. For Bingos:  
> Bottom Bucky Bingo : O1: PWP  
> Tony Stark Bingo: T3 Mission Sex / Card 3034  
> Bucky Barnes Bingo: B3: TELL ME
> 
> ii. This is filth. No redeeming qualities, no plot, just... filthy filth. Check the tags if you have smut allergies. 
> 
> iii. There mayyyyy be a vague idea of a Stuckony sequel kicking around on gdocs for this. But, I'm marking it as complete in case it never sees the light of day. If you're interested to see a part two, feel free to subscribe to the fic so if it *does* ever happen, you can, y'know, roll around in some more filth. :) 
> 
> iv. Many, many moons ago, Queen of the words, FestiveFerret, fixed the words you are about to consume, but then, I went back and poked them. Repeatedly. With sharp sticks. So, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> v. As always, I love hearing from you guys, so feel free to comment or come yell at me on tumblr @thewaythatwerust

“ _Please,_ Stevie?” Bucky wheedles. “Just a taste?” He presses a wet, open-mouth kiss to the back of Steve’s neck, taking his time dragging his tongue over the warm, salty skin. 

“ _Buck_ ,” Steve hisses. “We’re in the middle of a mission.”

“No, we’re not,” Bucky whines. “We’re at the tail end of one if anythin’. The others are doing the final sweep, cuttin’ down the stragglers.” He places his hand between Steve’s shoulder blades and pushes down, bending him over the large wooden desk he’d crowded him up against in preparation for this exact moment. “We’ll be done before they are.”

“We can’t…” 

“We _can.”_ Bucky grinds against the perfect swell of Steve’s ass. “You know what seein’ ya in uniform does to me.” He folds over Steve, trapping him tightly between the wood of the desk and the leather of his outfit, letting his boyfriend feel _precisely_ what it does to him. The quickening pace of Steve’s breathing is a familiar Morse code of _want_ beating against Bucky’s chest, and he rocks his hips forward, groaning at the sweet friction, grinning as the sound is echoed beneath him.

A flash of color in his peripheral vision makes him twist his neck, seeking out the source, sending stray locks of hair whipping his face. His every sense sharpens, his body drawing tight, ready to react if it turns out this abandoned building isn’t exactly abandoned after all. Narrowing his eyes, he waits… his mind ticking over. But there’s no further movement, or noise, or enemy fire, and Steve’s impatient whimper draws his focus. 

He presses a sweet, chaste kiss behind Steve’s ear before dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin. The hot, wet stripe is a promise of things to come, and it pulls a rumbling groan from Steve’s chest.

“S’been so long since you’ve let me taste you, baby,” Bucky murmurs, letting Steve feel the words rush over the shell of his ear, already stained pink. “And seeing your ass like this… _shit,_ sweetheart, I can’t take it; you got me leakin’ already.” He slides his hand down between their bodies, caressing the blue fabric covering the exquisite curve. “You’re not gonna be a tease, are ya, Stevie?”

“ _Bucky…”_ Steve’s lips wrap his name in a moan and it ripples down his spine like silk.

Keeping his aching cock notched perfectly against the cushion of Steve’s ass as he straightens, Bucky rakes his nails down the top portion of the navy suit, the textured surface catching under the blunt, roughened lines like it wants nothing better than to follow his hands and lift from Steve’s body. He hums thoughtfully, pretending he doesn’t already know the game is over, and Steve has lost… even though they’re both about to win. 

“S’okay, doll, you can just lay there, let me mess up this pretty suit of yours instead. Ain’t no-one gonna notice a little extra white on the blue…” Bucky trails off, squeezing the flesh filling his palm.

The sound that breaks from Steve’s throat makes Bucky’s skin burn, flashing a trail down to his cock, and when that flawless ass drives back against him and Steve huffs out a breathless, _“Fine, you win,”_ Bucky almost makes a mess of his own uniform.

He works the navy pants down, slowly, _slowly,_ chuckling at Steve’s frustrated whine. They don’t have long, he knows, but they have time enough for _this_ — for him to make Stevie whine and cry and _beg._ Oh, those pretty lips feel like heaven, taste like lust, but they’re never sweeter than when they’re wrapped around a _please._

The suit pants are tight and the fabric thick, and it bunches at Steve’s thighs halfway to his knees, rippling and refusing his gentle coaxing. He could rip them off, tear them off with his fucking teeth, but he knows Steve needs to wear something other than a smile when he’s done being torn apart, so he leaves them, liking the way they constrict Steve’s legs, making pretty pink lines on pale skin. 

The firm, _perfect_ twin mounds of Steve’s ass jut out proudly like they know how fucking delicious they look, and Bucky caresses them with his palms before hooking his thumbs between them and drawing them apart, his own breath coming quicker as that secret, most intimate place on Steve’s body winks into view.

He drags his tongue up the inner cheeks, drawing lazy, meandering trails, sucks softly at Steve’s taint, and presses sweet kisses all around the puckered hole… touching, tasting, teasing -- everywhere but the one spot Steve _craves._

“Buck, c’mon,” Steve whimpers, rolling his hips and pushing back, trying to get Bucky’s tongue where he wants it, where he _needs_ it, “someone’s gonna come looking for us.” 

“So impatient, Stevie.” Bucky makes a disapproving _tsking_ sound with his tongue before he sinks his teeth into the enticing rise of flesh by his lips, making Steve jerk forward on the desk, spitting out a stream of curses. 

Bucky lifts his teeth and locks his lips over the marks, latching on and sucking fiercely at the smooth swell of muscle in his mouth, working on drawing up a pretty, perfectly mouth-shaped bruise to the surface; a claim that will stain Steve’s skin for only a moment before it fades, returning to burn through his veins just as Steve’s unseeable, unbreakable claim throbs through _him._

The shrill screech of metal legs sliding across the floor fills the air as Steve ruts against the table, the heavy desk no match for supersoldier strength as he takes matters into his own hands, grinding his wood against actual wood, too impatient to wait.

Bucky’s low, dark chuckle is a challenge, a red flag to a bull, and Steve’s frantic motions stop as he huffs out an annoyed breath. “You’re a fucking tease, Barnes. Someone’s gonna walk in on us before you’ve had your _taste.”_ He grumbles. There’s no heat in the words, just desperation, and Bucky knows he’s pushed far enough. Besides, as much pleasure as he takes from making Steve hold out, there’s so much more to be had from giving in.

Dragging the hard line of his nose across the neglected ring, his nostrils flare, pulling in a deep breath, the sweaty, musky scent filling his lungs, the broken whimper filling his ears.

Easing closer, he lets anticipation build and _build;_ a storm of lust rising in them both before Bucky lets his eager tongue finally, _finally_ taste his prize, dragging over the puckered hole slowly, feeling it quiver under his touch. Steve’s gasp is glass-sharp, slicing through the frayed, gossamer threads of Bucky’s restraint, and he drives forward, pushing his face in closer, tighter, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to the coy ring. Steve has always been Bucky’s favorite flavor, and here, tasting like sweat and sin, he revels in it, moans and spit spilling from his lips in equal measure. 

Fingers flexing, straining, Bucky drives his nails into the flesh beneath, readjusting his grip, spreading Steve further, exposing him, opening him. Eyes glassy and lips curved, he pulls back, staring at the spot of pink, slick and shiny with his spit, swollen from the attention. Steve whines, soft enough to deny it later, loud enough to catch Bucky’s ear, to urge him on, and who is he to disappoint his boy? He lunges forward with a growl as Steve’s hips jerk back to meet him.

Bucky works his mouth like a masterful musician playing his favorite instrument, each flick of his tongue, each sloppy, sucking kiss, making Steve cry out for him, to sing so beautifully, too far gone now to try and temper the volume of his pleasure.

Head-fuzzy, eyes closed, drunk on the taste, on the _power_ of pulling those hoarse, broken sounds from Steve’s chest, he works his lips, his tongue, coaxing Stevie’s body open, kissing the shy ring so sweetly, lapping at it with long broad strokes and gentle kitten licks, making it lax and soft and wet.

It’s always his favorite moment, his favorite fucking thing in the world, when Steve’s body opens for him; the first moment when he slips his fingers or tongue or cock into that powerful, tight body, to be _inside_ of Steve, to become part of him, to be taken in, accepted… _welcomed home._

He can’t stop his lips curving up against Steve’s sensitive flesh as his tongue works inside, preening at the shout of ecstasy above him; his name, cracked to pieces under the pressure of pleasure, every fragment an awed prayer.

His lips curve up higher as strong legs edge wider apart, thwarted by the tight binds on thick thighs, and narrow hips stutter, pressing back against Bucky’s face, opening himself as much as he’s able - a silent plea for _more._ It’s the first _please_ of the day, but it won’t be the last, and if Bucky weren’t tongue-deep in his boy’s ass, he’d tease Steve until the tips of his ears were glowing.

He kisses Steve’s ass like he takes his mouth, eager lips teasing, tongue licking up the taste, fucking into him and exploring every inch of warm, velvety softness he can reach. He loves eating Steve’s ass, knowing Captain Prim And Proper shudders apart at how filthy it is, shame and desire burning twin trails over his body in such a beautiful way it makes Bucky want to chase the flush with his cock, painting pretty white trails over strawberry skin.

Every draw of his lips, every stab of his tongue works Steve up and pulls him apart until he’s begging for it: broken whimpering moans and such sweet, pleading words as he pushes back on Bucky’s face, his greedy hole sucking at Bucky’s tongue, trying to draw him deeper.

“ _Ahh!_ Fuck, Bucky, please, _please._ ”

The second one sends a spike of pleasure so sharp that it’s painful pulsing down into Bucky’s cock. He squeezes at it, growling as he scrapes his teeth carefully over the puffy hole head buzzing pleasantly, taking pleasure in giving it, taking pleasure in _Steve_.

A noise in the hallway, a dull metallic clang, filters through the fog in Bucky’s head, but he discards the sensory input. There’s no threat out there that is more important than his mission in here, and his mission is getting close to completion. Although... Bucky hums thoughtfully, the vibrations rushing from his lips feeding into Steve’s body are rewarded with an answering shiver. There are _other_ ways to push Steve over the edge with his tongue, by just wrapping around a few well-chosen words. And maybe...

Giving Steve’s insides one last, regretful lick, he pulls back again and sucks another pretty, red mark onto one perfect asscheek that fades before his eyes.

He trails his thumb over the slick ring with just enough teasing pressure to cause maximum frustration. “Jesus, Stevie. What if _Stark_ could see you like this? Fuckin’ yourself on my tongue? Think he’d take pity on you? Suck your droolin’ cock into his mouth while I eat your pretty, little ass?” Bucky presses a finger into the glistening hole, and Steve keens as the flare of a wide knuckle catches on his rim. 

“ _Buuuck…_ ”

Bucky knows the fantasies are playing out in Steve’s mind, knows his face must be scarlet, eyes pinched tight, torturing that thick lower lip with his teeth, just like when he had confessed the fantasy, not a month before. Wrapped in Bucky’s arms in bed, even the cover of darkness hadn’t been enough to hide the fiery embarrassment burning across his skin. And in the days and nights that had followed, Bucky had taken great pleasure in teasing Steve at every opportunity, and hell if this isn’t the best one, yet.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Me and Stark, both on our knees, worshipin’ your body with our filthy kisses.” Bucky’s eyes dart to the door, narrowing on the shadow beyond, watching it shift ever so slightly, a smirk settling on his lips. Steve’s ass is clenched tight around him, sucking at his finger hungrily, like it never wants to be empty again. Bucky slides his finger out, ignoring the forlorn whine, before adding another, dragging it through the mess of spit coating Steve’s ass before feeding them to the warm, ravenous hole in one, long thrust.

“Oh, _fuck._ ” Steve whimpers as he grinds against the desk, and Bucky can only imagine the delicious mess he’s making. 

He rubs over Steve’s prostate, and Steve’s hips jerk off the desk, a wet sob ripping from his throat. “Yeah, Stevie, you’d fuckin’ love that. Wanna shoot your load down Tony’s throat, dont’cha baby? Wanna feed him your come. Tell me, sweetheart, lemme hear you say it.”

“Yes, Buck.” Steve’s moan is shadowed by a heavy thump, his back bowing up as his head hits wood. “Want you and T-Tony... on your knees, sucking me... making me c-come.” The words are muffled, whispered into the desk like a shameful secret, but there’s nothing but pride bursting in Bucky’s chest. 

“Good boy,” Bucky rewards the confession with another finger, sliding it inside the swollen hole, watching it slotting in so perfectly against the other two, making Steve gasp at the new stretch, knowing the pinch of pain will only drive his pleasure higher. 

The air is thick with the scent of salt and sex and _need._ Sweat-slicked skin is rutting back against him frantically, his name a desperate chant on Steve’s lips as he rides the thick fingers inside him. Steve’s clenching, bearing down, jerking and spasming, gasping and crying with each turn of Bucky’s fingers inside him— working that sweet spot that makes him _howl._

The sound of wood splintering makes Bucky’s fingers finally, ruefully, still. He’d wanted to lean in for another kiss, to suck at the now open hole until spit is running down his chin and making a mess of Steve’s pants. He could devour this sweet ass all day if they had the time, breaking Steve over and over without a touch to his cock. But Steve is so, _so_ close, Bucky can tell from the hitching gasps, the tremors in his legs, and the way he’s breaking the fucking desk, and there ain’t no way Steve’s coming now without being buried deep inside him.

Bucky curls his fingers as he drags them from Steve’s body, hooking the pretty ring and stretching it outward, tugging until it releases him with an obscene, sloppy noise that has his aching, neglected cock welling up and spilling over, more precome messing his already sticky skin.

Reluctantly, Bucky rises and steps away just long enough to push his own pants down as Steve pushes himself up with shaky arms. Large hands are shoving navy pants down to bunch around ankles much too delicate for a man of his size, half a second before those large hands are shoving Bucky down onto the desk, his breath forced from his lungs with a harsh _oof._ And, oh, Steve’s in _a mood,_ now. 

“C’mon, Stevie,” Bucky groans, wiggling his ass invitingly. “We haven’t got all day.” 

Steve’s irritated huff is the only warning Bucky gets before he’s being pulled backward, pulled apart, his cock sliding against the wood already slippery with Steve’s precome, and then the wet, blunt head of Steve’s cock forces inside him, sliding balls-deep in a single, harsh thrust. 

A scream bursts from his throat, the hoarse wail echoing around the empty room. Oh, but _fuck,_ he loves when Steve takes him dry. No prep, just rough and dirty, the hard thrust eased only by the slick slide of Steve’s precome, the pain matching the pleasure, bright and sharp, fighting for control of his brain as his body works to make room for Steve. 

The heavy weight of Steve’s sticky hand slaps over his mouth, clamping tight as hot breath ghosts over his ear. “Jesus, Buck. Someone’s gonna hear you.” The cry, muffled behind Steve’s hand breaks on a moan; the burning stretch easing as his body relaxes... _remembers_. 

Bucky can feel the tension radiating off Steve, like flames off the sun, and knows how much it’s costing to stay still, waiting for him to adjust. He’s about to open his mouth, to tell Steve it’s okay to move, but then, something’s forcing past his lips, driving in his mouth, pressing heavily on his tongue— thick, wet, bitter... _familiar._ Understanding crests on a moan and he suckles at Steve’s fingers greedily, drawing a low growl from behind him.

“You good, baby?”

Bucky can only nod, white noise pulsing around the edges of his vision as he licks at Steve’s fingers, the salty taste mixing with the musky flavor already coating his tongue.

The desk jolts as Steve draws out and snaps his hips forward again, his pelvis splitting Bucky’s asscheeks, burying himself deep inside, two becoming one. Steve’s other hand wraps around Bucky’s throat, arching it up, firm enough to make him curl his fingers, flesh and metal both, around the desk to keep himself grounded, a tether to keep himself from going _soft_.

The rhythmic screech of metal jerking across the floor sounds again and again and _again_ until the corner slams and embeds into the wall, and there’s no cover to the obscene sounds of bodies joining, of low, guttural moans and high-pitched keening cries muffled by fat fingers. Each time Steve bottoms out inside him, Bucky’s cock slides over the desk, drooling continuously, adding his mess to Steve’s.

Steve’s fingers slide from his mouth and release his neck, coming to grip his hips. “Fuck, _fuck!_ Buck, I’m so close,” Steve pants harshly from behind him, hips hammering forward, snapping back, too close to hold any semblance of rhythm.

Bucky can feel the bruises blooming under Steve’s fingertips, the thought of Steve’s marks on his body jolting him toward his peak. “Ahh, Stevie, ahh, come for me, fill me up, baby. Wanna f-feel you leaking out of me,” he gasps, breaths pushing out in short bursts, tearing from his chest, “wanna feel you running down my thighs on the ride back to the tower... gonna press close to Stark, covered in your spunk, see if he can smell you on me.”

 _“Ahh, fuck!_ ” Steve’s arm wraps around Bucky’s chest and lifts him from the desk, crushing their bodies together as frantic fingers wrap around Bucky’s leaking cock, milking him hard and fast. “Yeah, Buck, I’m gonna come, gonna fill you up—” Steve’s hand stutters and tightens, a stranglehold on Bucky’s cock as he hits his own peak. The feel of Steve’s cock jerking and spitting deep inside him pushes Bucky over the edge, his ears catching the strangled gasp in the hall as he comes all over Steve’s fist.

. . .  
  


“You know, Cap, that outfit does nothing for your ass.”

Steve’s hand stalls in mid-air, halfway to placing his helmet on the rack of the quinjet, his head whipping around to face Tony, eyes wide, a patriotic deer caught in arc-reactor-fuelled headlights. “Maybe you should come down to the workshop when we get back and let me make some adjustments.” 

Pressing his lips together tightly, Bucky tries desperately to stop the smirk fighting its way to the surface, watching the wave of bright red sweeping up Steve’s neck.

Tony leans closer, and Bucky strains to catch the murmured words, never more thankful for enhanced hearing than right this second. “I don’t think it will look as good as Bucky does pressed up against your ass, but maybe you could feed me…” Tony’s eyes drop down to Steve’s crotch before dragging slowly back up to his face “...some ideas.”

Bucky’s laugh drowns out the thud of the helmet hitting the floor. He thought he’d seen the telltale flash of red and gold metal in the hallway, and damn if he doesn’t deserve a prize for his hunch paying off in such a spectacular fashion. In fact, he muses as the two men spin toward him, drawn by the noise, he deserves _two_ prizes, really. He lets his eyes drift over the two very enticing bodies in front of him, already planning how he intends to collect.


End file.
